


Drink Up, Baby Down

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-21
Updated: 2006-07-21
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8696605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: This be the one where Sam gets his cherry popped. Third in the Impala!porn-verse, falling somewhere between We're Not Discussing It and For the Love of a Chevy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title:** Drink Up, Baby Down   
**Author:** [ ](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/profile)[**keepaofthecheez**](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/)  
**Characters:** Sam/Dean  
**Rating:** NC-17 for language and incest.  
**Category:** barely legal!Wincest, slash  
**Word Count:** 3, 475  
**Spoilers/Warnings:** pre-Pilot; incest, graphic sexual content, some drug use, dirty language, abuse of ellipses, etc.  
**Disclaimer:** Oh, if only.   
**Summary:** This be the one where Sam gets his cherry popped.   
**Notes:** Third in the Impala!porn-verse, falling somewhere between [We’re Not Discussing It](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/148071.html) and [For the Love of a Chevy](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/140547.html).  
  
  
  
It was Sam’s eighteenth birthday, and the way he saw it, he should’ve gotten exactly what he wanted.  
  
Instead, he found himself sitting at a local pizza parlor, waiting for Dean to quit flirting with the girl at the cash register and bring back food before Sam’s stomach gave up and ate itself.  
  
He couldn’t help the pout that curled his lips, idly tapping the table counter as he glared at the back of Dean’s head and willed his brother to leave the blonde bimbo alone and get his ass back over to Sam. As if hearing his thoughts, Dean glanced over his shoulder and caught Sam’s gaze. A grin tilted his lips and he winked, mouthing something Sam couldn’t really make out, but it didn’t matter because Sam wasn’t paying attention to anything but the way Dean’s lips curved and teased and…  
  
He bit back a groan, shifting in the booth and reaching down to press his palm against his awakening dick, and then Dean was walking toward him with a large pizza box in hand and sliding in across from him. He tossed the pizza onto the table, and then pulled two bottles of beer out of the pockets of his jacket.  
  
“On the house, birthday boy,” he laughed, and Sam finally realized what his brother had been up to with whatsherface up front. He rolled his eyes, but grabbed one of the beers anyway.  
  
“You could’ve gotten her fired, you know,” he muttered, refusing to acknowledge that he was less worried about the waitress’s job and more concerned with what Dean had thought when he’d looked at the pretty young blonde.   
  
“Oh, please,” Dean snorted, twisting the cap off and downing the amber liquid in a quick gulp. “ _I_ have a perfectly valid I.D., Sam.” His eyes were twinkling when he brought the bottle back down, licking at the drops that clung to his lower lip. Sam was momentarily transfixed.  
  
And then he remembered how frustrated he was.  
  
He’d been waiting for this night for over two years, when things between him and Dean had first come to a head, and he’d be damned if he let Dean weasel out of the promise he’d made. He watched in silence as Dean reached for a slice of pizza – fully loaded with every damn topping known to man, of course – and felt his irritation growing stronger.  
  
When Dean finally looked up and realized Sam wasn’t eating, he swallowed his mouthful before asking, “What’s up, Sam?”  
  
Sam could’ve choked him.  
  
“What are we doing here?” he said instead, sighing as he slumped against the leather seat and crossed his arms against his chest, the perfect image of teenage angst. “I thought we were gonna…”  
  
He trailed off meaningfully, hoping Dean would pick up on his train of thought so he wouldn’t have to blurt it out in a semi-crowded restaurant. His cheeks burned at the idea, which only made him scowl even more.  
  
“Thought we were gonna what?” Dean wondered, expression innocent as he took another bite of pizza. Sam searched his brother’s gaze, hoping and praying for some telltale sign that Dean was joking, that he was just messing with Sam’s mind or something. But Dean just continued stuffing his face, watching Sam with a slightly perplexed look coloring his features. “You not having fun, Sammy?”  
  
Sam glared at Dean as the opening strains of _Birthday_ began to blare out of the juke box in the corner. Dean’s lips twitched, and then he was outright cackling as Sam leaned forward to speak over McCartney and Lennon’s mingled voices. “You’re so fucking immature.”  
  
“See if I give you your present now,” Dean harrumphed, but his eyes were still laughing as he finished his beer and came to his feet. “Grab that, would you?” he motioned toward the half-eaten pizza, and Sam grabbed the box and followed Dean out of the building.  
  
Then they were in the Impala and Dean was driving them God only knew where, and Sam could only stare out the window as buildings and woods flew past, fingers clutching the pizza box. There was absolute silence in the car, which was odd in and of itself, and when he risked a glance at Dean he found his brother’s expression completely devoid of the humor and easiness of moments ago.  
  
When Dean finally cut the engine and Sam realized where they were – the same meadow where it had all began, he went instantly and irrevocably hard as anxiety and excitement warred for supremacy inside of him. He caught Dean’s eyes, swallowing as his brother climbed out of the Impala and walked around to the back. Sam heard the trunk pop, and then the sounds of Dean rummaging through weapons and supplies.  
  
Sam dropped the pizza onto the floor, craning his neck to try and decipher what his brother was looking for, wondering if he should get out and join Dean or just stay where he was and…God, he was acting like a fucking _chick_. That thought in mind, he got out with a grimace, finding Dean sitting on the now-closed trunk and holding a bottle of something Sam couldn’t identify. Two glasses and an odd looking spoon rested beside him, and Dean’s eyes glittered in the dark as Sam approached.  
  
“So, what do you say, Sammy?” he asked in a voice that nearly resembled a purr. “Feel up to a little celebration?”  
  
Sam struggled not to react to the words outwardly, but inside he was already ripping Dean’s clothes off and attacking every bare inch of his brother’s body. He shrugged wide shoulders. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Hoping he sounded half as cool and collected as he’d meant.  
  
Dean smirked, and then hopped off the trunk, coming straight for Sam. At the last second he veered for the Impala and Sam frowned in confusion when Dean swung the back doors open and got inside. “You coming?” Dean’s voice called, and Sam let out a sigh before walking over.  
  
“Dean, what—”  
  
That’s when he caught sight of the label on the bottle Dean was holding. Sam went stock-still, surprise and honest-to-God shock coursing through him as he flicked his gaze back to Dean’s. “Absinthe?” he muttered, voice catching oddly on the word.   
  
Dean’s eyes glowed with some kind of emotion Sam couldn’t put a name to, and he nodded slowly. “I got it from that voodoo priestess down in New Orleans,” he explained in a low tone, and Sam immediately flashed back to the hunt in question. Vague images of an evil house spirit filled his mind, and then he was blinking at Dean.  
  
“And you took it,” he said, not even a question. “Dean, what the hell were you thinking?”  
  
“That I’d save it for a special occasion,” Dean drawled, and the words sounded as much like an invitation as if Dean had just stripped down right then and there. A shiver went down Sam’s spine, and it wasn’t a bad one.  
  
Still…  
  
“I don’t know about this,” he said, athough he was already moving forward and slipping into the backseat beside Dean. He stared at the foreign beverage, curiosity getting the better of him as he licked his lips and looked back at his brother. “Do you know…I mean…how do you even…?”  
  
Dean didn’t wait for him to finish, knowing that Sam had caved before Sam even recognized it himself. He watched Dean measure out some of the absinthe into the two glasses, mix it with water and sugar and then, he handed one of the glasses to Sam with an almost daring look on his face.  
  
Sam took it, hesitating only for a second before bringing the glass to his lips and tasting. It wasn’t pleasant by any means, but the thrill of the illicit made it almost sweet. Knowing Dean was waiting for his reaction, Sam bit back the face he wanted to make and muttered, “Drink up, baby.”  
  
Dean snorted, taking a sip from his own glass before pronouncing it “Fucking disgusting, dude.”  
  
And Sam giggled. Fucking _giggled_ , and he wasn’t sure if it was the absinthe already working miracles or just the adrenaline from not knowing what to expect that night, but he immediately felt woozy and dizzy and…  
  
There was a soft _snick_ , and Sam glanced over to find Dean lighting up a cigarette. He’d brought a knee up to rest his arm across, and Sam couldn’t quite manage to drag his gaze away from where denim stretched tight across the seam of his brother’s crotch.  
  
Dean caught him staring a moment later, and pulled the cigarette from his mouth, stamping it out and tossing the used butt out of the open car door before picking up his glass and shifting closer to Sam.  
  
“To being legal,” Dean said, a gleam in his eye that had Sam’s pulse kicking. “Ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, Sammy.”  
  
Sam clinked his glass against Dean’s, and then took a long, slow sip, holding his brother’s gaze the entire time. “I dunno, I bet there’s lots of benefits.” His voice was pointed, and Dean’s eyes followed as Sam licked the bitter drops from his lips.   
  
And in the end, Dean didn’t have to say anything. He just slouched back, spread his legs farther apart and sent Sam a look that meant _c’mere_ , and Sam was in his lap before another second had passed. He wrapped his legs around Dean’s waist, already crashing his mouth down to taste the forbidden flavors of Marlboro Reds, beer, and absinthe on his brother’s tongue.  
  
“Mmm…slow down, Sam,” Dean whispered, although he shifted to let Sam get closer, banding his arms tighter around Sam’s back as he used his mouth to torment the skin below Sam’s jaw. His was voice was thick with alcohol and desire. “We got all night.”  
  
“I want it now,” Sam managed, not caring that he was whining. He ground his hips down against Dean’s cock, savoring the way his brother’s eyes went dark, his lids falling halfway closed. Sam’s head felt like it was spinning and every nerve in his body was lit on fire with desperation. He hunched his shoulders, fingers finding the hem of Dean’s shirt and rucking it up to find warm flesh beneath. “I want you to fuck me _now_.”  
  
Dean made a sound that was equal parts agonized and grateful, letting Sam yank his shirt over his head as he scooted back on the seat. Sam followed, squeezing his thighs around Dean’s middle and letting the tips of his fingers trace the whorls of Dean’s nipples, watching in mild fascination as the flesh tightened and beaded beneath his touch.  
  
Fuck, he felt like he was flying.  
  
“Feelin’ all right?” Dean murmured, concern in his eyes when Sam blinked slowly and shuddered, everything around him going blurred and hazy. Heavy warmth crept through his body, weighing down his limbs and making him feel lazy and needy at the same time.  
  
“Yeah, just…damn.” Sam swayed again, marveling at the changes his body was going through. He bit at Dean’s mouth, wanting to crawl _inside_ his brother as he rolled his hips against Dean’s lap, small sounds of desperation and frustration spilling from his lips as Dean panted under him. His fingers dug into Dean’s shoulders, tongue caught between his teeth. “ _Dean_ …Dean, I want…”  
  
“I know what you want,” Dean shushed him, soothed, eyes glittering, and then his fingers were working at Sam’s jeans and Sam lifted his hips to let Dean drag the denim down and off. Within the confines of the Impala it was a tight fit, but Sam just clenched his teeth and held onto the coat hook, bracing himself on one leg then the next.  
  
Dean made quick work of his own clothing, and then _finally_ Sam found himself nestling skin-to-skin and, fuck, the sensation was so palpable and amplified by the added stimulus of alcohol and absinthe that a scream lodged itself in the back of his throat.  
  
It was almost too much.  
  
“Can you reach the glove-box?” Dean’s voice seemed thick and faraway in Sam’s mind, and Sam nodded slowly, holding his brother’s intense gaze as Dean lifted a hand and drew his finger along Sam’s bottom lip. “Get the lube, Sammy.”  
  
Sam nodded again, stretching for the front of the car. He’d never been more appreciative of his over-sized arms and legs than he was at that moment; successfully obtaining the lubricant without having to give up his seat on Dean’s lap. There was a sharp intake of breath beneath him when he settled back, lube dangling from his fingers, smile tilting the corners of his mouth.  
  
“Give it to me,” Dean said, softly, but with an ache in his voice that Sam didn’t miss – wasted or not. He shifted his hips, cock brushing against Dean’s as his brother sucked in again, and Sam grinned long and slow.  
  
“You gonna give it to _me?_ ” he asked, lips pursing as he drew the small tube along his mouth, mimicking Dean’s previous action and watching as his brother’s jaw worked.  
  
Dean made a sound deep in his throat, tone gritty and hungry. “You know I am.”  
  
Relief burst throughout Sam, and he wilted slightly from the dizzying sensation. Truth be told, he’d almost thought that Dean had been messing with him – although Dean had never really done that. He’d always made it perfectly clear what he was and wasn’t willing to do with Sam; exactly how far he planned to let them go.  
  
It was just hard to believe that the thing Sam had been craving for over two years was _finally_ about to happen.  
  
He handed over the lube, nearly shaking in anticipation as Dean held his eyes and popped the cap. Sam could hear his own shallow breathing in his ears, could feel the rush of blood in his head, and chewed at his mouth to keep from begging Dean to hurry the fuck _up_.  
  
“Slide up a bit,” Dean said a second later, and Sam complied quickly, straddling Dean’s chest as he stared down into dark pupils, the curve of Dean’s mouth. “This is gonna hurt, Sammy.”  
  
“No fucking shit,” Sam groused, distracted by the way the stars reflected within Dean’s eyes. Everything seemed so surreal. He wanted to touch everything, wanted to _feel_ everything, and nothing was happening quick enough to suit him.  
  
“Sam, look at me.” Dean’s voice was half-amused, half-exasperated, and when Sam finally refocused his attention, he realized Dean had slipped a hand down his spine and was now circling right fucking _there_.   
  
Sam might’ve whimpered.  
  
“Let’s try two,” Dean rasped out, expression taut and mirroring Sam’s own longing. “You can take two, right?”  
  
“Fuck, just _do_ it,” Sam hissed, all but grabbing Dean’s hand and forcing his fingers up inside himself. There was the sharp burn of penetration that Sam had grown familiar with over the months of exploration with Dean, but it had never happened with the knowledge that Dean was gonna follow it up with—  
  
“Shit!” he gasped out when another slickened finger joined, stretching his flesh wide open. He rocked against Dean’s hips, falling forward as his eyes went blurry.  
  
Dean was panting harshly against his neck, and then, “Jesus fucking Christ, you are _so_ too tight, Sammy.” He sounded tortured and frustrated, and then withdrew his fingers. Sam groaned in protest, long and low, wiggling his hips and trying to deny Dean’s words.  
  
“Dean, don’t, I can…just gimme a sec and—”  
  
“Open your mouth.”  
  
Sam didn’t even blink, sitting up and tilting his head to receive the bottle Dean fed him. The absinthe burned bitterly on his tongue, and Sam grunted. “Shit’s goddamn nasty,” he complained, but he couldn’t deny that it helped calm his nerves.  
  
And so it went; Dean force-feeding him the narcotic and then stretching him, until Sam felt nothing but a mild sting when he realized Dean was slowly fucking him with the same three fingers as before. Sam sat back up, skin on fire as he rode Dean’s hand and continued taking small sips from the bottle.  
  
Whatever Dean saw on his expression must have satisfied him, because he once again pulled his fingers away and moved them to Sam’s hips, angling him back and over the head of his dick while whispering, “I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?”  
  
Sam made some kind of incoherent reply, and then felt insistent pressure at the place where Dean’s fingers had just been. He bowed his back and pressed down against it, feeling his flesh give way around Dean’s cock, and both of them groaned and cursed.  
  
Dean froze, and Sam could feel him pulsing inside of him as he stared down through heavy lids. “Dude. Is that your dick or a fucking tree trunk?” he slurred, rocking his hips to try and find a more comfortable position.  
  
“Christ, Sam…”  
  
“Don’t you dare stop,” Sam warned, reading Dean’s hesitation even through the glaze of alcohol. He bit his lip, trying to ignore the painful burn, resting a palm against Dean’s chest and using it to give himself more leverage. “ _Fuck!_ ”  
  
Dean moaned, and the sound went straight to Sam’s dick. Dean’s arms tightened around his hips, lips parted in a grimace of pleasure as he thrust up again, and the pain began to subside to mere discomfort. Sam grunted, giving a testing thrust of his own, and smiled when Dean responded with a sharp oath, muscles twitching.  
  
He took another sip from the bottle, making a face at the goddamn _awful_ taste of it, and continued riding Dean with almost languid ease. He wanted to break out into giggles, talk about the most inane shit in the _world_ , all while his brother’s cock drove into him again and again.  
  
“Gimme that,” Dean finally managed, reaching up as he realized Sam was starting to get _too_ loopy.  
  
Sam glared down at him, licking his lips and ordering Dean to shut up and fuck him harder. Dean’s eyes went wide, and then he sat up and grabbed the bottle from Sam and flung it out into the night. Sam was about to protest when Dean caught the words with his tongue, and he flipped Sam around so that he was on his back, Dean hovering over him.  
  
“This how you want it then?” he breathed roughly, sliding a hand up Sam’s leg and bending it. “Fuck. Sam.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam managed hoarsely, all teasing gone as Dean buried his face in his neck and fucked him faster. “This is…about right.”  
  
Dean started whispering things in his ear that were driving Sam crazy; dirty, nasty things his twenty-two year old brother had no business knowing about to Sam’s frazzled state of mind. Of course, Dean had probably known everything at twelve.  
  
“So long,” he groaned out, and Sam clenched around him, a helpless groan escaping his lips as Dean drove harder. “So fucking long, Sammy…you weren’t the only one…”  
  
Dean broke off, practically ripping himself away from Sam, cheeks flushed and expression drawn tight as he fisted his cock. Sam sat up on his elbows, breathing fast as he watched his older brother finish himself off, his own hand drifting down his stomach.  
  
The second he touched himself, Dean lost it, twitching as he came all over his fingers. Sam gazed on in fascination, quickly jerking himself off as he stared at Dean’s glistening fingertips. He came an instant later, arching his hips and digging his heels into the Impala’s leather seat as Dean watched _him_.  
  
He might have just been severely drunk, but he was pretty sure he heard Dean whisper beneath his breath, “Goddamn gorgeous”, and a flush worked its way up his neck.   
  
Dean was the gorgeous one, not him.  
  
When he said as much, Dean stared at him for a second before laughing deep in his throat, and then Sam was in his arms again and Dean was licking softly at his mouth, tangling Sam’s fingers with his own before he brought them up to his lips. Something inside of Sam went into hyper-drive as Dean sucked the come from his hand, and his hips were bucking before he could stop himself.  
  
“Take it easy,” Dean said, eyes heavy and knowing as he kissed Sam again, letting him taste _them_ , and god _damn_ this shit was kinky, and Sam fucking loved it.  
  
He cleaned himself off and got dressed as Dean smoked a cigarette, and had to wince the first time he sat down in the passenger seat. His ass felt raw and abused, and Dean asked after him in concern, but Sam waved it off, secretly enjoying the burn and what it signified.   
  
And all he could think about during the short drive home, was _how the hell was he gonna top this when Dean’s birthday rolled around?_


End file.
